Why You Wanna?
by longliveSiriusBlack
Summary: One shot involving Misha Collins. Based off the song Why you wanna?


My boss whistled for me, a high pitched whill he reserved for his employees. Turning my head towards him I gave a smile. His grey eyes casted over too the door, mine followed in suit.  
Oh God!

Ducking down beneath the counter, I pulled my knees to my chest. My heart pounded against my chest, my breathing clipped.  
Of all the damn bars to go to he comes here! HERE!

"Baby doll, he's alone." My boss whispered to me, pretending to wipe down the counter.  
"So?"  
"Just pointing out." He sent me a wink, his gray/brown hair falling in his face. I stuck my tounge out.  
"Hi." Oh God. His voice reached my ear, traveling down to my heart. I bet if I stood up right now, I could see those blue eyes. The ones I wish he wore sunglasses to hide.

"Hello." My boss regarded him half hearted. He pulled a glass from the shelf, pulling the tap he filled it to the brim with Sams. I bit my fist hoping Saul wouldn't give me away.

"Randi? Why ya hidin' beneath the counter?"  
God damn co-workers!  
I gave Arla a glare, being sure she got the full threatening menace of it. Then stood up; Saul hiding a chuckle behind his hand. I turned to face those blue eyes. "Misha." I nodded my head. Gulping down the knot in my throat. He had THE black shirt, that made his white skin glow, on. It was tight against his lithe frame, proving he has muscles. Small yet defined so when you run your hands...damn him. Why'd he wear That shirt?!  
His near black hair had its usual 'just had sex look.' My chest tightened as his soft, chapped lips tugged into a smile.

"Hi Randi." I felt my cheeks heat up, hoping he couldn't tell; I nodded to him.

"May we talk?" He asked. The most difficult question ever to fall from an ex-lover's lips.

"I'm working Misha." I told him straight and emotionless; of course Saul decided to say, "Its your break time Randi." Giving my boss a tight 'you're so getting it' smile. I followed Misha to an empty table in the corner of the bar.  
He pulled a chair out and indicated for me to sit. I gave the chair a once over and sat in the unoffered one. Misha's mouth set into a thin line but he sat down too. Crossing my hand on the table top I sat up straight, looking at the tv in the corner.  
Saints were playing, and winning!

"Thank you." He said. I held in a sigh, turning to look at him; I nodded once. "Yes."

His left hand played with the glass. His mouth opening and closing. Wanting to say what was on his mind, but thinking twice about it.  
"You look good; great really! Did you do something with your hear?" I, involuntarly, brushed my hair back.

"I cut it into layers." I answered.  
"It looks good. You look good...I already said that. You always look good actually. I remember the summer after we moved-"  
"MISHA!" I stopped his rambling, not wanting to hear a story from our 'good ol' days'. His mouth shut tight.

"What do you want?" I ask. He stayed quiet. Eyes looking my way then back to the glass. I tried not to smack him in the face. He opened his mouth, looking much like a fish, then snapped it back shut.  
After a few minutes of very awkward silence. He straightened up, finally answering my question "You."

I didn't know what to say, I didn't know how I was to react. A piece of me remembered Misha was an actor; a very good actor. All this could be an act. Another piece of me remembered how wonderful it felt to be held in his arms, to kiss his lip, hear his voice say my name. How amazing of a father he was and how baldy I wanted to have children with him.  
So I settled on being smart.  
"Took you awhile to answer." I stated. He shrugged.

"Was trying to find the right way to say it without you killing me." His blue eyes caught mine and held them. I didn't want to be the one to look away, but if he kept staring...

"I still don't understand. You came all the way to Tennessee from California. Just to tell me you 'want me back' your a nice man Misha. Things people do always have a second motive." I interrogated him. Misha just gave me my favorite smile. Where his mouth curls up in the left corner. Causing a small dimple to form.

"I have one motive, I've only ever HAD one motive." He lifted my hand from the table, running his finger across my knuckles. A shiver went down my spine. Watching him closely waiting for him to..to..  
"You." He leaned forward and kissed me. Just the slightest brush of his lips on mine. He didn't move, neither did I. We kept our lips together. Barly any pressure on them but fire was spreading across my body.

Why didn't I move? This is the stupidest thing I've ever done! Feelings that I buried deep under the ground dug their way up. Swirling around me, twisting my heart into a knot. I should move, I should definitely move. But...if I slipped just a little to the left. Our lips will align perfectly, setting us into a deeper kiss.  
I moved, and he reacted. Wrapping a hand around my neck, his other one pulling me closer. The table stabbed into my side, I ignored it. His lips were doing something amazing, and mine were following. I felt guilt and relief, love and hurt, loneliness and pride. It felt so right and so real, like we were two benes torn apart and finally reconnected. I let a low, barly audible moan rise up. His tongue traced my bottom lip, asking for entry.  
I denied.

"Misha." Shaking my head, I tried my best to clear it. My heart yelling that I'm an idiot. Tell me, causing me to yearn, to kiss him again.  
My brain was being slightly logical; reminding me that this is Misha. The man who, just by a smile, can break my heart.  
My body on the other hand...damn traitor.

"I would apologize if I were sorry." He laughed. I smiled a real smile. One I long forgotten existed. "I just...I miss you so much it hurt Ran...I really, truly, honestly do." His blue eyes stared into mine. I bit my bottom lip. A conclusion coming into my mind.

"I'll give you a shot. A small one but a shot. Just tell me when and we can see eachother again. TO TALK nothing else." I tell him. He perks up, his usual Misha demeanor taking over.

"Drinks? Friday at eight."  
I nodded.


End file.
